Yongguk thought he would feel… something more. He expected many things: a heartache, a hurting pride, maybe even some tears. But the only thing he got was a simple feeling of disappointment. And anger at himself for not seeing it coming from miles away.

After Himchan had told him ‘goodbye’, Yongguk froze for about ten seconds. Unable to react, he tried to pinpoint the source of the cold, which slowly enveloped his insides. He flopped on the unexpectedly hard couch, eyes roaming the living room in search for some kind of explanation and maybe a piece of sanity. He didn’t find it, but empty ramen boxes and tons of music sheets splattered over the floor reminded him that he has a life he must take care of. It took him couple of seconds to be able to imagine how his existence would look like after his now ex-lover closed those goddamn door.

And that was when the disappointment hit him. No screams? No broken, stuttered love confessions uttered too late? He knew that it was Himchan who acted like a diva most of the time, but Yongguk expected himself to be a little more… moved by this whole situation. Instead of dealing with a dull pain in chest, he found himself busy picking up the papers with his new song, organizing them into neat stacks and pushing ramen boxes aside to throw them out later.

The notes seemed a little too flat for his liking, childish and without depth. He was sure the reason wasn’t as simple as Himchan leaving him – there was something more to it. The song was meant to be heartbreaking, but it was only commercially sad. Yongguk grabbed the nearest blank paper and a half-chewed pencil which was laying to his right. He briefly pondered over the way his friends would react to this whole fiasco.

Yongguk was sure that he did not want to find out. Not right now, at least. He searched through his pockets, grabbing his iPhone and turning it off. His notebook was still on and working, a small, red icon of incoming message imprinting itself under his eyelids. Yongguk turned away, firmly holding the music sheets in his palm. In that moment he knew what was missing.

It prompted Yongguk to question why everybody thinks that break-ups cannot be handled with calm demeanor. Why there is a need to show how much you hurt when there is nothing you can do? Does flaunting your pain make it lessen in some way?

The pencil scribbled over the half-used surface of the paper. Yongguk’s heart did not bleed.

The scratching grew louder, more determined. He wasn’t broken by being left alone.

The notes Yongguk drew on the sheet were clear, they had a purpose. It had been a long time since he was so certain about the quality of the thing he was creating.

Yongguk’s fingers hurt when he finally put the pencil down. The dull feeling in his chest did not bother him that much, because the song he wrote was right there, before him. His eyes skimmed through the notes. Yongguk stared at it in what could be easily described as a shock, because it suddenly made him realize that the disappointment wasn’t the only thing he felt.

The paper contained all of his fury: at Himchan, at life, at himself. The irritation, the bitterness, the coldness. But there was no bleeding, no hurt. No signs of dying inside. It felt weird to see his emotions as the blaring obscurity of dots and lines.

Yongguk released a long breath.

Oh God, he felt so light.

Something wet trailed down his cheeks. He just bid farewell to a large part of his life. And he was going to move on, because no matter how much he wanted Himchan back it would not happen.

A/N: I've written it after my own break-up and I guess it was my way of coping? Please don't hate me for this T_T